Behind Closed Doors
by She'sAShipper
Summary: When Sara moved to Las Vegas at a moment's notice she had to live somewhere. This is my take on what would happen behind the closed doors of Grissom's townhouse if Sara had stayed there. On Hiatus!
1. Prolouge

**Title: Behind Closed Doors**

**Rating: T-M**

**Keywords: Sara/Grissom Friendship; Sara/Grissom Romance**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm probably not the first GSR writer to have this idea but I'm probably the first one to it this way. LOL.**

**Summary: Sara moved to Las Vegas at a moment's notice…she had to live somewhere. My take on the Grissom/Sara relationship as it pertains to the individual episodes.**

"Ug…" sighed a tired and frustrated Sara Sidle as she entered her drab apartment in eastern San Francisco. She just finished a long shift for a hard case that ended up with the police deciding their evidence was not strong enough to press charges or continue to hold the suspect. She knew the suspect was guilty but they had no way to definitively prove the date of the victim's death.

Sara opened her nearly bare refrigerator and removed a bottle of beer. After popping the cap she drank half of it in one swallow. She knew without a doubt the victim, April Mayer, had been murdered by her own father, but because the body had been left so long before it had been found the state of decomposition could only pinpoint months or weeks, not exact days. Sara had known, nearly to the day, of course. She had taken an intensive seminar in forensic entomology and could tell from the insects present. She even knew vaguely how to use them to back date a time of death nearly to the hour, still a six month seminar ten years ago did not qualify her as an expert on the subject.

She moved to her living room/bedroom an saw for once there was a light blinking on her answering machine. She pressed play and listened. She was surprised at the voice she heard coming over the speaker. "Hello, Sara. This is Gil Grissom. I know its been a long time since we talked, btu well call me back when you get this message please. You can reach me at 1-702-555-6119. Thank you."

The machine beeped again, "Sara, it's Gil Grissom again. Please call me back. It was…It is important. 702-555-6119."

That was the last message on the tape. As soon as it finished playing she got her phone and dialed. She hadn't seen Gil Grissom in three years when they had dinner one evening while he was in San Francisco at a conference. She talked to him for only a few minutes on his birthday the previous month. He had forgotten to call her on her birthday, but had remembered to send her a card. Before the time in August, the last conversation they had had been in March, that is excluding the occasional brisk e-mail. After two rings she head his deep voice, sounding tired and stressed. "Grissom."

"Grissom…It's Sara Sidle. I just got your messages," she told him.

"You mush have been busy. I left them quite a bit apart," he told him.

"You sound tired," she observed. "You said it was important. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered. "At least I think so, I'm not even sure anymore. I called…I need…When I left the first message I just learned one of my rookie CSIs had been shot. It was her first night on the job."

"Oh, Griss…"she sighed. "I'm sorry. Wasn't anyone shadowing her?"

"That's part of the problem. Anyway, she's at the hospital now in surgery, but they don't expect her to live. She's listed as critical," he told her. "I was certain that Captain Brass was going to want an IA investigation again my CSI who was supposed to be with her, but before he could order one..." He paused to catch his breath. The events of the last hours had taken their toll, and repeating it all was draining.

"You can slow down," she comforted, instinctually knowing that the rapid pace of events had his mind spinning.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "I know…I just feel like everything is so out of control. To make a long story short, as part of the fall out I've been made the nightshift supervisor, I'm going to run the whole unit. I can't do it by my…It now up to me how to investigate the shooting and…I need you."

Sara was shocked and momentarily rendered speechless, "I beg your pardon."

"I need you," he replied. "I need someone outside my own team to investigate Warrick Brown. I don't want IA involved. We're short handed as it is…I need someone I trust, someone who thinks like I do, who will respect the evidence."

"Well," she sighed thinking. "I just wrapped a case here and I have a huge amount of vacation time saved up. I'll pack up a few things and…"

"I booked you a flight out of Frisco in the morning just in case," he told her. "You can stay at my place for the time being."

Sara laughed, "Wow, you are desperate. You never take that kind of initiative. All right where do I meet you?"

"I'll probably be at the Hotel Monaco most of the day. A new jackpot winner took a swan dive," he told her. "Call me when you land and I'll tell you where I'll be for sure."

At that he hung up and Sara stared at the receiver. For their entire relationship Grissom had been an enigma, an unsolvable mystery that baffled her over and over again. Perhaps now, seeing him again in his own natural habitat she would finally collect the evidence she needed to crack that case.


	2. Chapter 1

**See Chapter One for notes and disclaimers. Reviews appreciated.**

**Chapter Two: Cool Change A**

Grissom carried Sara's bags up to the front door of his townhouse. She had only packed one suitcase and had taken just a small carry on bag in addition to her field kit, but still he had insisted on carrying her belongings. Grissom fumbled around his pocket for his keys, "Gris, I can take those," Sara said from her position behind him.

"No, I've got it," he said as he slipped they key in the lock and opened the door. "Well, here it is," he announced.

Sara walked into Grissom's home. It looked to be more of a house than a home. The walls were sterile looking, a white with hints of blue as an undertone. They were decorated though, with colorful and unique butterflies in an assortment of display cases. Grissom's couch look to be the least comfortable piece of furniture in the known world, the rack would likely offer more comfort. She let a small laugh escape her lips at the thought. 

"What?" Grissom asked at the sound.

"This place looks like your office back in Berkley," Sara smiled.

"Those were the days, huh?" he sighed. "Your room is this way."

Sara followed Grissom down the hallway to the guest room he used as more of a storage locker than a guest room. "I'll move these boxes out and get you some fresh sheets," he told her setting her bags on the floor.

"You don't need to go through all of that," Sara told him. "I can stay at a hotel."

"You're going to stay with me," he insisted. "You are doing me a favor." He ran a hand down his face, "God, I cannot believe…"

"Gris, uh," let's leave this and go to the kitchen for a talk, okay?" Sara suggested.

Grissom normally was not one for conversation but whenever he had the chance he enjoyed talk to Sara. She was feisty and passionate, but at the same time very understanding and kind. "It's been a long day for you. You must want to rest."

"I'm fine," she assured. "Come on, let's just relax for a while."

He gave in and they both took seats next to his kitchen island. "My initial inquiry," she began. "Does not look very good for Warrick Brown. Several witnesses stated he was placing NFL bets…"

Grissom cut her off, "I already know that. I know he made a huge mistake, but he is a damned good CSI, Sara."

"I won't deny that," she answered. "I still need to interview a few people, especially Captain Brass and Warrick Brown. They are the keys to this thing."

"I know you'll give me your best," he said squeezing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. After a moment's pause, "I'm not sure I can do this," he confessed.

"Do what?" she inquired. "If you're not comfortable with me sta…"

"No," he quickly assured her. "I'm not sure I can be the…boss, I guess. I'm not the type."

Sara nodded listening intently. "Grissom, you care about your colleagues. You always try to guide them and help them even if it takes you out of your way. You have so much knowledge, a little bit about everything and anything. Not to mention I have it on exceptionally good authority you are an excellent teacher. You already are a supervisor, Gil."

"Thank you for that," he smiled. "Stil, I want to be in the field with my people, with the evidence, not shut up in my office writing evaluations and applying for grants."

"So do that," she told him. "You are the boss now. You set the tone for how things are going to run in your unit. If you want to lead by example, do it. If you want to be a sideliner, do that. You set the pace."

Sara smiled at him and reached across the space between them to capture his hand. Grissom could see in her eyes how much she believed in him. He only wished he could believe in himself that way.

As they sat together, her two hands tightly enveloping one of his, Grissom's cell phone rang. He did not want to break the fragile connection between himself and another human being. He craved that so much in his life, especially now, stressed as he was so he was careful not to disturb it when he reached down to remove his phone from its pouch on his belt. "Grissom."

Sara studied Grissom's face as he listened to the caller. His face grew heavy and his blues eyes lost their sparkle as the call went on, and he made only short monosyllabic responses. The hand she cradled in her own began to reflexively tighten to a near painful grip, still she did not retract it for she knew what he was hearing from the person on the other end of the phone. Finally, he exhaled a long breath and murmured a flat, "Thanks," before ending the call.

Grissom stared at their clasped hands, his mind running in circles, reeling from the information he had just received. He took a deep breath and raised his head to meet Sara's eyes. They were filled with understanding, still he had to give voice to the words that were echoing in his head, even though not were necessary.

"That was on of the uniforms we had out a Desert Palm Hospital," he told her keeping his voice flat and emotionless. "Holly Gribbs dies on the table."

Sara studied Grissom's face. It betrayed no emotion, only control, so very different from the man she knew and formed a bond with years ago in California. That did not stop her from slipping off her stool, letting go of Grissom's hand, and closing the gap between their bodies so she could wrap her arms around his chest. He froze a moment at the sudden change in contact, then lifted his arms to return the gesture, softly pressing Sara's body next to his own.

"It'll be all right," she whispered. "It will."

She felt him nod his reply and squeeze her gently before letting her go, "I'm going to have to…" he began.

"Yeah," said Sara knowing what he was going to say before he said it. "I have to go locate Warrick Brown. I promise I'll be fair."

"I know you will be," he said gently. "That is why I asked for you. I know…I know I can trust you to do this right." He stepped back from her and reached for his keys on the hook. "I'll see you tonight."

Sara slowly nodded, "I'll be here," she confirmed adding under her breath after he was gone, "I always will be."


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for notes and disclaimers.**

**Chapter 2: Cool Change B**

Sara felt a small amount of vindication watching the LVPD arrest Holly's murderer, but she couldn't help but feel Warrick Brown had at least a ¼ part in her death. She'd written her findings in clear, explicit detail just as she had learned to do at Grissom's seminar. It was, of course, up to him to decide what Warrick's fate would be, but she was confidant he'd make the right decision.

After the group cleared out leaving just the two of them, he cautiously approached her, "Sara, I…I read your report and recommendation."

"I was as fair and objective as I could be under the circumstances," she automatically defended, not realizing she did not have to do that to this man.

"It is excellent work," he acknowledged. "The finest I've seen in a very long time and that is really a lot for me to say because I have some very talented CSIs."

"That really is the highest compliment, Grissom," Sara smiled. "Thank you."

"It is deserved. Now, I have some, as much as I hate it, administrative things to take care of upstairs. I'll see you back at the townhouse," he told her thrusting his keys into her hand. "You head home, drive safely, have a snack, and get some sleep. I'll be there before too long."

"Grissom…" Sara began ready to insist she wasn't tired but saw the futility in that. "I'll see you."

Sara took her rental care and Grissom headed back to his office. He head read and reread Sara's report on Warrick's activities the night Holly was shot. She had recommended termination without service benefits, the harshest penalty allowed beyond prosecution or civil action. Still, he couldn't do it. He could not bring himself to fire Warrick for something he had done only hours before. True, he had not been off gambling, but he had left Holly unattended at that liquor store in favor of working another case. They all, Warrick, Brass, Catherine, and himself, had responsibility in Holly's death, one should not pay for the actions of many.

There was another problem. Even with Warrick still on his staff, he was short one CSI. In the box at the corner of his desk were nearly 50 applications to work the graveyard shift as a CSI in Las Vegas, nearly 50 people from various parts of the United States wanted to work here, with him, for him…that was heavy. Grissom knew though, that he would not have to read any of the papers in that box, he all ready knew exactly which CSI he wanted to fill the empty space. Now all he had to do was get her to say yes.

The lights were off when Grissom arrived back at the townhouse. Sara's purse and kit were on the couch. He placed his kit next to her kit shaking his head at how natural it felt to have someone else's things, Sara's thing, amongst his own. Quietly, he placed the milk and cola he picked up at the store in the refrigerator then headed towards his room.

As he approached he heard a few small, soft noises coming from his room. The sounds piqued his curiosity not because he didn't know the source, but because he did not know why Sara would be in his bedroom. A quick glance into the guest room on his way past answered that, he had never gotten it ready for her. She must have been exhausted to have lain down in his bed.

Grissom's mind only had a few seconds to process his feelings about what seeing Sara in his bed would do to him before her cries grew louder and more desperate. He felt his heart speed up as he quickened his steps to reach her. He did not even think someone else might be in his home harming here, he knew if that were the case the distress call would not be Sara's, or at least not Sara's alone.

If he had walked in on her being held down and tortured he could not have been more surprised or felt more protective. She was lying in his large bed, curled to one side taking up less that a quarter of the space; her thick full hair was pulled back off her face, her slender body only covered with a thin pale blue sheet. She was kicking her legs under that sheet, tossing and turning violently while fighting and clawing her way past some unseen enemy.

He moved to her side pausing only a moment to listen to the sobbed apologies she was making to someone named April. Grissom knelt down next to the bed and reached out to touch her exposed shoulder gently shaking her awake, "Sara," he whispered. "Sara, come on. Wake up now, it's okay."

She started at his touch and the sound of his voice, sitting up like a shot, gasping for air as she continued to cry.

"Sara," Grissom said a bit louder moving to sit on the bed beside her. "Sara, slow down your breathing. Slow down, take in deep breaths." He ran one of his hands up and down her bare arm while the other moved through her hair as he said the soft hypnotic words. "That's it. You're safe. It's okay. Just be easy."

"I know," she whispered after another moment. "I…I failed her, Gris. I…promised her."

"Failed who?" he asked gently. "Promised who?"

"April," Sara whispered snuggling closer to Grissom's chest the minute he made it available. "I…We couldn't place a time of death and her murderer…"

Grissom's arms tightened. He wasn't sure what she meant but he felt certain she was on the edge. This break and his offer to move to Las Vegas could not have come too soon. "Sara, we can only do so much," he offered. "As scientists and as human beings we can only do so much. You can't do more for a victim that the evidence allows."

He felt her nod against him then pull back but only slightly, "The evidence was there just like in your course and in your book. It was textbook, Gris, but they didn't listen to me. They didn't even try and…he's going to go free."

"I'm sorry," he whispered gently rubbing her arm. "Can I get you some water or juice? I bought the soda you like, that Dr. Pepper."

She shook her head, "No, I'm fine. I better get my things together."

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"My work is done," she answered. "I came here to help you investigate Warrick Brown's negligence in Holly Grib's death. I've done my report…"

"Sara…I called you here because I needed you, not just to help me with the internal investigation but…I have to run this unit on my own now. I need someone I trust someone I can count on to be there and do things like I'd like them done," Grissom told her. "I need you to help me learn how to do this. I have an opening on my staff, and it is yours as soon as you say the word. I know this will be just what I need to get things going right on the shift again."

"Grissom, you don't have to…" Sara began.

"The job is yours," Grissom told her. "I want you on my team and more than that I think you might need a change of pace and to…to be doing this work somewhere where you have friends."

Sara smiled gently, "I think it just might work. I've wanted a change. Would I be taking over Warrick's pos…?"

"I didn't dismiss Warrick, Sara," Grissom confided.

"But he was clearly neglectful," she once again began to defend herself and her work.

"You don't have to defend yourself to me. He was negligent, but so was I," Grissom sighed. "In order to fire Warrick I'd have to fire myself as well. I always shadowed the rookies their first few nights, always no matter what anyone said and this time I failed that. I…"

His voice trailed off when Sara pressed a soft hand to his cheek, "Don't. Please don't. It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"I do," he replied. "I always will. All I can do now though is try harder next time, begin again. Tabula Rasa."

"Clean slate," Sara nodded. "We can all do with one every now and then."

"I agree. So does that mean…" he began as she smiled and nodded her head.

"It means we better go rent a storage unit for all the clutter in the guest room since I'll be using it for awhile," she laughed as he rose from the bed.

"I missed that," he said over his shoulder from the doorway as he was exiting the room to give her privacy.

"What?" she inquired. "My smart mouth?"

"No," he said seriously. "The sound of your laughter."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Crate and Burial**

**All disclaimers apply.**

Sara was reading one of her old forensic textbooks while she waited up for Grissom. She wanted to be his star pupil as she had been at the seminar in California. The caustic comment he had made earlier about the Laura Garris case being real and not just a seminar had hurt her more than she wanted to admit to him or even to herself.

She heard his key slide into the lock and a moment later the room was filled with his presence and the smell of eggs, "I brought breakfast," was his greeting.

"I had half a grapefruit, but that smells good," Sara replied. "What is it?"

"Eggs, peppers, onions…" he said. "Interesting reading?"

"I've read this one cover to cover five times," she informed him marking her page with a tissue. "After today I'm beginning to think we should have profilers at every PD post like they do in D.C."

Grissom began unloading the two Styrofoam containers that contained their breakfasts. "It is not our job to be sympathetic or empathetic with victims or their families," he reminded her. "The evidence will lead us to the right conclusion. We don't need to see the inside of people's minds; their actions will show us a much clearer picture."

"Like Laura Garris?" Sara asked for clarification. "She had me fooled. She had both of us fooled."

"Not for long," Grissom reminded her passing a packet of plastic utensils. "You cracked it."

"After I screwed up earlier," she mumbled more to herself than to him.

"You didn't screw up," he corrected. "You rushed a bit because of how clean the scene seemed, but a lot of the indicators pointed your way. The altered voice on the ransom call, the amount and speed with which the demand was issued, they all said professional, it just turned out not to be true. First blushes exist for a reason, just like first drafts of term papers. They were invented to be revised."

Sara added pepper to her meal and watched as Grissom added pepper and salt, "Aren't you going to taste it first?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "I know it needs salt. The eggs from Marty's Diner always need salt."

"Too much salt is bad for your heart," Sara commented.

"Excess of any kind is bad for, Sara," was his measured reply. "Including excess in our work."

"Please," she laughed. "Gil Grissom, master workaholic, talking to me about beind excessive in one's work."

He rose and moved to the refrigerator, "Orange juice?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. "Do you really think I'm excessive?"

He poured the juice into two matching cups and resumed his seat before answering, "No, you haven't shown me a signal of being more excessive than the rest of the team in terms of hours, but in the intensity, I'll admit you have a tendency to be zealous."

"I love my work," she said biting a biscuit.

"That's good, but…How do I say this," he sighed. "On that patio last night when we found the rag you said something that…Sara, I want you to stay here and work hard for the fulfillment it brings you and the peace of mind it brings to the victims not to make an impression on me."

"It's just," Sara began. "Forget it."

"No, it's okay," Grissom assured her. "Finish."

"It's just you were the only person who ever really believed in me," Sara confided. "I don't want to let you down."

He sipped his juice and was quiet a moment, "You couldn't," he finally said. "I believe in you and trust you, not because of what kind of criminalist you are, but because of what kind of woman you are. You could be anything or do anything and I'll still believe in you. You need to take your own advice and believe in yourself."

She played with her food a second then met Grissom's eyes, "It means a lot to hear that from you."

"I'll say it anytime you need to hear it," he told her. "Just ask."

They finished breakfast discussing the details on the front page of the newspaper and laughing at memories from previous cases with bizarre endings. Sara helped Grissom clean up then went to get ready for bed. She showered then called out to Grissom that it was his turn. He did not acknowledge her so after three tries she went to the living room to be sure he heard her. He was a million miles away. "Grissom?" she said gently. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" he sighed as her voice startled him from his thoughts.

She sat beside him, "Are you all right?"

"No," he confessed. "I'm thinking about today. I'm empathizing with the victim."

"Laura's kidnapping was staged," Sara reminded him. "There was no real victim."

"Yes, there was," Grissom said, shifting to face her. "Her husband. I'm not normally one to sit and do this, but I cannot begin to imagine the fear he must have felt thinking he might never see his wife again. You can tell when you've done this as long as I have when someone's concern is genuine and when it is not. Jack Garris' concern was genuine."

"Yeah it was," Sara agreed. "He loved her enough to fork over two million dollars without blinking an eye and I heard Brass saying he was providing her with a high dollar attorney, probably cost him $3 million by the time it's all done."

"You can't put a price on any life, especially when it is the life of someone you love," Grissom said as he yawned.

"You need to get cleaned up and get some rest," Sara encouraged.

"I will after you tell me what's brewing in your head," Grissom replied.

"I know what she did was cruel," Sara said after a minute. "Making her husband suffer like that but I can't help but think how it must have been for Mrs. Garris in that crate. I mean when she planned it out she had no way of knowing Chip Rundle would turn on her. She must have been terrified she'd die out there."

"We all pay a price for our misdeeds," Grissom observed rising from the sofa. "The fear she had to go through as a result of her own actions was, some would say, part of her karmic punishment for the fear her husband went through."

"It still isn't enough," Sara sighed shaking her head beginning to follow Grissom out of the room. He stopped and turned around, slowly reaching a hand out to squeeze her shoulder, "You can't focus on that. Our job is done; the rest is out of our hands."

"I know," she assured him then turned to her room to get some sleep.

Grissom was awakened from his sleep by the sound of Sara's voice. She was talking and crying out in her sleep for someone to help her. Quickly he got out of bed and hurried to her room. He eased her door opened and saw her fitfully thrashing under her covers. He considered calling out but he knew she was locked deep inside her dream. He had plenty of his own dreams like this. He would hear the external noises, but lack the power to fight his way out of sleep because he was concentrating on fighting his dream. He moved to her side and sat on the edge of her bed, "Sara," he called gently shaking her arm. "Wake up. Come on, now."

Grissom repeated the soft words in a coaxing tone a few times before Sara woke up shaking and gasping for breath. Grissom reached for her at the same time she reached for him. He pulled her in close, "Ssh. You're all right. You're okay," he comforted rocking her gently until finally she quieted. He only released her when she was no longer trembling and her rapid breathing had returned to normal. "What was that about?" he asked.

"It was just a bad dream," she said wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm fine, go back to sleep."

"Not just yet," he said. "Can you tell me about the dream?"

"I don't remember it," she lied and he knew it.

"Yes you do," he countered. "Come now; tell me what it was about. It will help, trust me."

"I…I was just feeling…When I was a kid my folks and I went to Kansas to visit my grandma. I was about nine and I was playing outside. I loved all of the open space she had on her farm. The storm cellar door was opened, I don't remember why and somehow the ball I was kicking around rolled in there. I climbed down and I started exploring. I had never seen a storm cellar or anything like it before, and I found it really interesting. I must have been out of view because the door somehow got closed and locked from the outside." Sara shuddered at the memory and began to tear up. Stubbornly she wiped at one tear that escaped. Grissom reached out for her, taking hold of her hand, holding it loosely as she told her tale.

"You must have been scared," he said softly as a way of encouraging her.

"At first I wasn't," she replied. "But hours passed and no one came down. I was gone half a day and no one came. It wasn't until years later I found out no one but my grandma's farm hand even noticed."

Grissom shook his head sadly, his heart aching with pain for her, "And this case, thinking about Laura Garris' fear brought that memory out." It was not a question.

"No," Sara answered. "It just made me realize that if I was ever in that position or one like it again not even a farm hand would notice."

Grissom ran his hand over her arm from wrist to shoulder, then inched it across the delicate slope of her neck until it rested on her smooth cheek, "You're wrong Sara. I would notice if you were missing. I always have."

"That's nice to hear," she said with a small smile.

"It's true. We're friends, Sara and friends look out for each other and take care of each other. If you ever are lost, I'll find you or at the very least, help you find yourself."

Sara smiled again, then yawned, "We need to get back to sleep."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "You lie back down. I'll stay for awhile if you like."

Sara definitely wanted him to stay, to fall asleep with the safety he offered, but her pride would not allow her to let on, "I'm fine," she assured him. "Thanks."

Grissom rose from the bed and moved toward the door as soon as she turned down his offer to stay. He paused in her doorway before leaving when he heard her whispered gratitude he answered, "That's what friends are for."


	5. Chapter 4

All standard disclaimers apply. See chapter one for specifics.

**I'd like to thank Giwu for signing on a beta for this fic as well as my other story, Mountains. Thanks. You are wonderful.**

**Chapter 4: Pledging Mr. Johnson**

Sara arrived home late the afternoon Nick and she put James Johnson's case to bed. The entire situation frustrated her. The concept of anyone going through any sort of ritual, malignant or benign to belong to a group made no sense to her. If you couldn't belong because of who you were, why would anyone want to belong to that group in the first place? It sickened her and for the first time since arriving in Las Vegas, her compass was not functioning. She could feel her equilibrium slipping away rapidly.

When Sara opened the door to the sparsely furnished townhouse she shared with Grissom she found her long-time friend and mentor sitting at his kitchen island playing Solitaire.

"Wow," Sara said in surprise as she tucked her field kit away next to his. "This is quite a switch. Usually you're halfway through the New York Times crossword puzzle by now."

He turned over his three cards and placed a six of diamonds under the seven of spades. "I'm trying something new," he replied.

"How's it working for you?" she asked taking a seat on a stool across from him.

"I'm bored, frustrated, and feel like I'm about to have stroke," he replied moving his recently unearthed ace of hearts to the top of his board.

"Please don't do that," she said half jokingly. "Seriously Grissom, did someone steal your paper or what? What's behind this?"

Grissom shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it."

Sara nodded. She understood that about Grissom. They were both introverted people with strict privacy principles, but lately both of them had laid those aside at home with each other. Still, at any time either of them could decide to revoke that and this was obviously one of those times.

"That's okay. It's your choice. You just seem very upset."

"I had a rough day," he admitted. "I'm the way I am for my own reasons and those are not and should not be open for debate or comment by anyone."

"I agree," Sara replied. If she listened to him, supported him and validated his comments she could probably get him to put it into context for her. "We all have our secrets, our defenses. We need them to survive."

"Exactly," Grissom sighed. "We have our patterns, too. There are things we do as part of a cycle, a ritual that provides comfort in its existence. I don't see what's wrong with that."

Again she supported him, "There isn't anything wrong with what you are saying. The rituals and habits that are part of our personalities make us who we are, make us special in a world where so many things are exactly alike. But when those rituals are forced upon others, where our very acceptance is threatened for not measuring up that there is a problem."

Grissom slipped off his stool, "I read about your case. It's always hard when someone so young dies for no apparent good reason. Are you handling it okay?" he asked.

"It frustrated me earlier, but I'm fine now. We are talking about you," Sara replied not allowing his him to slip into protector mode and begin taking care of her. He needed that from her this time and she was going to provide it.

"We shouldn't have to. I'm just…Why…" He sat down heavily on the sofa, his breathing irregularly fast. Out of habit, he raised two fingers to his neck recording his pulse rate. "Eighty two," he sighed.

Sara crossed the room and sat beside him one hand tentatively lying on his thigh, "You're angry. You need to relax," she said.

"I know," he admitted. "I know. The thing is I'm not sure if I'm angrier about the comment Catherine made or my reaction to it."

At the mention of Catherine's name Sara got angry. It would be one thing if Grissom was upset because of a comment made by a suspect or a grieving family member but this was a woman who was supposed to be his friend, that made Sara's protective instincts for Grissom come out full force, "What did she say?" she asked the hand on his thigh moving slightly, meant to soothe.

He shook his head, "I got after her for bringing her personal feeling with her on a case. She allowed her own hurt feelings into an investigation. That could have at the very least cost us a suspect, instead an innocent man is dead, killed by the scorned spouse because he believe believed his wife's lover was also her murderer," he said.

"Wendy Barger played with fire," Sara said. "Still…That piece of the investigation would have come out eventually, the affairs always do."

Grissom acknowledged that to be true, "Yes, but by then both suspects would have been cleared and maybe Winston Barger would have been able to think more rationally. Regardless, the affair we uncovered never should have been revealed. We could have kept the husband informed like I had promised without letting him in on that part of things. It turned out it had nothing to do with how she died," he said softly.

"It did, even inadvertently, have something to do with why," Sara said gently.

"We don't deal with why," he sighed. "We are not supposed to deal with the why. You ask yourself why, this job will destroy you. We need to have a motive; we don't need to know how it got there."

Sara chose to only nod this time. She didn't want to comment and upset Grissom's momentum. He didn't continue though, just put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands as if it weighed a thousand pounds. "You feel any better?" Sara asked softly after another minute of quiet.

"I'm getting a headache," he murmured in his hands. "Could you close the drapes and switch off the light please?"

Sara did as Grissom asked making the room as dark as the Nevada sun allowed. While she was doing this, Grissom shifted positions so he was lying face down on the couch.

Sara returned to his side and knelt beside him, "Do you want anything for your headache?" she asked.

"No, I'll just rest a moment, then go to sleep," he whispered into the leather material of the couch seat. "I'm just so mad at myself."

"Please tell me why," she prodded. "Get it off your mind. Then you can rest."

"Because I know Catherine was wrong in what she did today and I know as a supervisor and colleague I was right to correct her actions. Still, she was right about something. I have no way of knowing how I would have reacted in her position. I have never let anything or anyone get close enough to influence my decisions on a case before now and I'm starting to worry how I would react if a case did hit a little close to home," Grissom explained.

"You would react professionally," Sara replied. "Because that would be the right thing to do."

"We're all human," Grissom countered. "Although it seems the tide of public opinion of late has me as being less than human. True, I have antisocial habits, I have a personal life, too, but it stays personal."

Sara moved her arm so it lay across Grissom's shoulders. "Of course you do. We all don't leave them hanging out for all to see like some but we all have our skeletons, our demons that creep into our jobs. It is whether or not we expose them to victims and suspects that matters. Don't for one minute punish or question yourself for someone else's lack of control," she insisted.

Grissom managed a slow nod, "If that's true, why did the words hurt so badly?"

Sara played gently with the wisps of hair at the back of his neck, "Why do you think it hurt?" she asked.

He was quiet, "Because it hurts even someone like me to realize that I am really alone."

Sara kept up her gentle touch, "You're not alone, Griss. I'll always be here. You know that, don't you?"

One of Grissom's hands, the one he'd left dangling off the couch made contact with the floor and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. As he moved upright, Sara's face and his own nearly collided. With their lips inches apart Grissom's mouth suddenly went dry. It was there, it was right there, the promised end of years of desire, love, need, and loneliness, but still he knew it wasn't right, not for her. He sat up and rose, leaving Sara stunned and a bit hurt that he did not answer her question. He slowly and painfully moved to his bedroom for much needed sleep and time to think.

"Goodnight, Grissom," Sara said softly when he was about halfway to his room.

He stopped at her voice and turned, "Goodnight, Sara," he replied, then appeared around the corner. "And Sara?"

"Yeah?" she sighed pulling herself up from the floor to started for her own room.

"I know."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Friends and Loves

A/N: Giwu rocks!! Thanks for a great beta. From now on this story is rated M.

When Warrick Brown arrive at Grissom's house after trying to reach his supervisor and friend for nearly two hours he was greeted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner. That was the last sound he would ever associate with Grissom after a shift like they had, but he supposed that everyone had to keep a clean home. Warrick thought about leaving and waiting until he could reach Grissom on his cell. He turned away and began to retreat from the door when he heard the vacuum stop. He waited a beat the then knocked on the door.

Sara had just finished cleaning and straightening things around the townhouse. She was tired after work but still reeling from the idea that a funeral director was reusing coffins intended by grieving family members to be someone's final place of rest for dirty money. There were just some things that had to be sacred; the rest of the dead were certainly among them.

Sara smiled when she heard the knock on the door. Sometimes she wondered what Grissom did when he locked himself out before she moved in with him. She ran a hand through her hair to brush some stray hairs behind here ears. "Honestly, Grissom," she began before opening the door a slight hint of laughter in her voice. "Oh, Warrick," Sara gasped her face turning red. "I thought you were Grissom."

"Uh, no," Warrick replied. "I thought this was his place."

"It is," Sara answered. "I'm just staying here for a while until I find a decent place of my own. Did you need Grissom for something?"

"No, I um, our case was rough and he sort of took off," Warrick replied. "I was worried."

Sara nodded, "I am a bit, too. He's never usually this late unless he stays at the lab." Sara went to the phone and dialed Grissom's office number. When he did not answer there she tried his cell. Again he did not answer. "No answer at his office or on his cell phone," Sara sighed.

"I know, I've been trying for the past hour," Warrick sighed. "He's never gone off like that before."

"Did he say anything before he left you?" Sara asked using the limited knowledge of Grissom's habits to figure our where he might have gone.

"Just that he was going away," said Warrick. "He was even more closed off than usual."

Sara nodded, "Thanks Warrick. I think I know where he is." She grabbed her keys off the hook and started out of the house. Warrick followed her outside and down the steps. When they reached Sara's car she turned to him, "Could you do me a favor and not mention this living arrangement?"

"Sure," Warrick agreed. "Just give me a call when you find him, okay?"

Warrick headed out the door with Sara behind him, "Sure. I will," she answered.

Warrick headed home and Sara turned toward the Strip. She knew exactly where to find Grissom, at the Stratosphere. She reached the entrance to the coaster and followed the rails to the head of the line. She took out a photo of Grissom and showed it to the operator, "Have you seen this man?"

The operator looked, "Yeah, he's been going around on that thing for the past hour."

"When it pulls into the station again, give me a minute with him," Sara requested.

She waited behind the line for the ride to stop. Once it was safe the operator waved at her. She approached the train and knelt near Grissom's car. "Come on, Griss," she said softly. "Time to go home."

Grissom did not hesitate or argue; he simply exited the coaster and followed Sara to the parking lot. "I'll drive," she said. "We'll pick up your car tomorrow."

Again Grissom listened, climbing into the vehicle and fastening his seatbelt. Sara started her car then began the drive home. About halfway to the townhouse Grissom spoke, "How did you know where I was?"

"Warrick stopped by the house to check on you and I got worried when I couldn't reach you. He said you told him you were going 'away'," Sara answered. "I remembered back in LA the one time you said that you drove out to Disneyland and did the same thing. Once I remembered that, it wasn't hard."

Grissom nodded and fell silent, his mind not fully processing that Warrick knew the secret he and Sara shared. He didn't say another word until they arrive home and had gone into the house.

"You want a cup of tea?" Sara asked gently when she saw Grissom all but collapse onto the sofa.

"This all started with tea," he replied. "Tea. Something harmless led to the end of the lives of two young kids. Things like that sicken me. I can put so much aside, but when it comes to kids…" He looked at her, blue eyes shining with fierce anger. "I just can't fathom…"

Sara's eyes held his and her arms went around him. Her hand reached up to the back of his neck and gently eased his cheek to her breast. Grissom surrendered to the pain, anger, and confusion he was feeling and settled against her, wrapping his long, strong arms around her frame. She felt so protected inside that cocoon, and could only hope he felt the same with her.

Grissom felt Sara's lips brush against the top of his forehead as they sat and held each other. He smiled softly at the pressure and feel of her lips on his skin. He offered a squeeze then pulled back to meet her eyes.

Deep in the chocolate brown depths he could see the love, the desire, and the trust. It had always been there, ever since a beautiful rainy day in a San Francisco lecture hall. At first, neither of them had wanted to give into the desire or the compelling need they felt for each other. He had his career and she had her entire life waiting for her on the other side of that summer. It wouldn't have been wise for either of them to cross the invisible boundaries society had put in place years before. They had parted without ever touching each other physically, but heaven knew they had impacted each other emotionally for life.

"You could have come home, Grissom," Sara said gently. "You didn't have to go away. You could have come home."

He shook his head, "Not like that," he told her. "I always say it. Don't get too close, don't get involved, don't manipulate the evidence to fit a theory or even a desire, and I was this close." He used two fingers to illustrate, taking his thumb and forefinger and holding them less than a centimeter apart.

"But you didn't cross the line," she comforted. "I know you wanted to, anyone would have, but a lesser person would have lied, Grissom. You never do things like that, it's what makes you special."

"I don't feel special," he said, his voice dripping with contempt for himself. "One boy died as an indirect result of what that pusher did, another one's life is over, and God knows how many more will die in the process before someone gets that son of a bitch! All because…"

"Because?" she prompted wanting him to get this out as badly as he needed to get his feeling out in the open.

"Because I didn't have the guts to stop it," he hissed.

"Gil," she began shocking Grissom and herself by the use of his first name. "You told me once that a real man or a real woman does not lie and does not compromise their integrity for anything, not even for something that could be considered poetic justice. It's because of that belief and your commitment that you who you are and the man I admire."

He shook his head sadly, "Don't admire me Sara. I don't deserve it." He pulled away from her and stood up turning his steps towards his bedroom.

"Don't Grissom," Sara said hastily, taking off after him. "Don't turn you back on me this time. Don't bottle it up and let it silently eat away at you. Don't…don't be afraid to feel this loss, Griss. You don't have to be. Not with me."

Grissom felt Sara's hand go to his arm as it had when she had arrived to take him back to the townhouse from his seat at the Stratosphere. Her touch was always welcomed, it always made him feel special, feel strong, and mostly feel like someone cared for him and about him. She held his striking blue gaze with her chocolate eyes. They were shining with unshed tears as she slowly moved her hand up and down on his flesh. As he held her eyes with his own, one of the tears brewing beneath the surface slipped out and drifted down her porcelain cheek. Without hesitation, Grissom reached up to wipe it away.

That simple touch, the movement of a calloused thumb across silky smooth skin was Grissom's undoing. He'd felt the gravitational pull that had always brought him to Sara Sidle increase to an intensity so rich he couldn't, in his weakened and disheartened state, fight it.

Sara reflexively licked her lips. She had seen men stare at her that way before, but never Grissom. She'd never seen him study her with such intensity, such hunger. She knew he could never and would never love her as she loved him, no one ever could love her like that, but just for this moment, she felt like a princess, like the only woman in the entire world. She knew that if she gave him a signal that it was alright for him to cross the invisible line they had drawn, if she kissed him and let him kiss her like her heart and her body wanted her to do she would be lost, and so would he.

Grissom kept staring into Sara's eyes trying to read her thoughts and determine if the attentions he so badly wanted to give her would be welcomed. With a long, deep breath he ran his hand down her cheek and his thumb across her lips. She kissed the pad of his finger, pressed her cheek against his calloused palm, and parted her lips in silent invitation.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Sara," he whispered huskily, want and need spilling of every pore of his body. "I don't…If I kiss you now…I don't…"

"Ssh," Sara said as she hushed his lips by placing her forefinger over them. "Just feel. It's okay."

That was all the encouragement Grissom needed. His arms shot out as if they had just been released from some invisible restraint. He pulled Sara against him, practically crushing her body against his with such an intensity for a moment she believed Grissom wanted to make her a part of himself. He gentled a moment later and retracted one of his arms just enough for his finger to trace her chin before lifting it to meet the descending force of his mouth, crushing her lips beneath his before she had a chance to breathe.

With their lips and bodies entwined Grissom turned and began to steer Sara towards his bedroom. He used his legs, gently bumping her so she would step backward in the direction he wanted her to go. The entire time he did not loosen his hold or lift his mouth from hers for more than a moment. He had wanted to do this for so long and tonight he desperately needed it as well.

Sara could do nothing but follow Grissom's lead. She had never felt strong enough to be aggressive with any man in this sense, and with Grissom she did not feel she had to try to be anything more than what she truly was. She trusted him and wanted to be able to completely surrender to him. This was, after all, her dreams coming true. The sheer passion and physical sensation along with fierce emotion crashed through Sara in huge, all-consuming waves. Whimpering she welcomed Grissom's attentions as his lips moved over hers with urgent intensity, like a drowning man clinging to oxygen.

She moved slightly as they stood at the foot of his bed, wanting to soothe the inner turmoil she felt in his kiss. She knew he was letting go with her tonight because of what he had seen, she also knew this was likely to be a one-time event. She knew he was challenged by it, confused, and would wake the next morning with a completely different style of self-loathing. It was important she handled this exactly right and let him know she wanted him as well. She had to make sure he knew he was not taking advantage of her.

Sara uncurled her fingers that had been knotted behind Grissom's neck and glided up his shirt front to rest on his pounding heart. "Grissom," she murmured against his lips, her tone encouraging and dripping with passion. "Oh Griss…Oh…"

A hard shudder wracked through Grissom's body when Sara moaned his name and his grip relaxed further. He moved his hand up and down her spine, caressing her through her blouse, trying to smooth away any hurt, loneliness, or doubt as if it was a wrinkle in the cotton material. He urged her closer to him and gentled his kiss, his lips circling hers, lingering after each tiny brush, waiting for hers to part.

Sara understood his silent request. She opened her lips and let him slide his tongue slip between them to mate with hers. Grissom's mouth possessed Sara's with hunger, stroking every surface, awakening nerves and sensations she had though she may never get to feel. A small groan vibrated from Grissom's chest when Sara pressed herself closer to his body. Grissom's hands moved down to cup her buttocks and in one smooth motion he lifted her from the floor, fitting her to him, his manhood pressing into her as deeply as his clothing would allow.

The pleasure of Grissom's touch made Sara weak. Had he not been holding her, Sara knew she would have collapsed, her limbs turned to rubber from the sensation, unable to function without his strength. Grissom sensed her need and held her even tighter as he moved toward his bed and lowered her to the cool tousled sheets.

"Sara?" he whispered against her ear as he lowered his weight on top of her.

Sara smiled. It was the first time he had spoken her name since this had begun and it sounded wonderful.

"What?" Her eyes opened to meet his.

Brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek Grissom asked gently, "Are you sure?"

Sara slowly nodded, not hesitating even for a moment, "Yes, Gil, I am."

Grissom's breathing was harsh and strained as he balanced his weight on his forearms, not wanting to put any physical pressure on her until he had made certain he was not being selfish in his longing for the human touch, her human touch. "Do you realize what's going to happen?" he asked. His instinct to protect and keep Sara safe still strong even though he was the one about to take her body.

She smiled gently and reassuringly at his tender query, "Yes, I realize. I want it to happen. I need you, Gil. And you need me. It's okay."

Grissom swallowed. Every muscle and tendon in his neck strained, taut with his need for her. "If you want to change your mind, do it now, because once I have you under me, there will be no turning back. Once we…Once we cross this line, nothing will ever be the same again, Sara. Nothing."

Sara's mind was too involved in the physical sensations to fully analyze Grissom's comment. There were so many ways that this act could change their relationship, change their lives, but in the moment she did not have the strength of will to think about that. It was sweet that he wanted her to even though she could feel his potent arousal against her belly.

She reached up her hand to stroke his jaw. "I don't want to change my mind. Make love to me, Gil. That is if you want to, if you want me."

He let out a ragged breath, "God, yes I want you Sara. I need you. I need to feel…I…" He continued to hold her eyes with his.

"You want me, Gil?" she clarified, trying to make him see she knew what she was doing, what he was doing, and that it would be okay. When he nodded she continued her encouragement, "Then show me how much. I don't care about the rest."

"You might later," he whispered leaning over to place tiny kisses on her eyelids, the lips of her nose, and each soft cheek. He wanted her to know he cared for her, that he didn't want to use her body, he wanted to be gentle, but mostly he wanted for both of them to be sure.

"If that's the case, the burden will be mine, just as the decision is now." She gazed up at him and saw what she believe to be love in his eyes, on his face, a love for her long hidden and buried by his own sense of morality, a sense he was about to throw to the wind. "Please, Gil. I know what I'm doing," she assured him.

"Do you?" he demanded increasing the pressure of his weight against her. "Because I'll be damned if I do."

Grissom kissed her again, his hands making short work of removing her top and unfastening the button on her pants. Her small hand slid up his chest and worked his shirt off from the shoulders instead of the hem. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, thus Sara was pleasantly rewarded when her work revealed a soft mass of silky hair across his chest. She rubbed her cheek against it, and Grissom let out a pleasured moan and settled his body against hers. Sara moved upward instinctually as their flesh met for the first time.

Sara couldn't form a coherent though, so intense were the physical sensations coursing through her body. She clutched at Grissom's arms – desperate to please him and not knowing how for since all knowledge and common sense seemed to have left her. She was literally powerless in his arms.

"Gil," she began, but he placed a long index finger over her lips.

"Hush, honey," he murmured, tracing her swollen lips with his fingertip. "Let me love you, Sara. Just lie back and let me love you."

Once again Grissom began his gentle assault on her body, his large hands moving to touch her breasts through the silk of her bra. Sara cried out in pleasure at the touch and wiggled to urge him on when he undid the front clasping undergarment to bear her breasts to his sight and his touch. He lowered his mouth to take the tiny bud into his mouth and sucked and nipped at it gently, making Sara moan his name in pleasure. It came out in a sob, for she was lost in his arms, until he stopped.

"Griss…? Don't stop…" she nearly begged. "Don't…"

"Hush, sweetheart. It's only the beginning. I want to be inside you, I want to feel you around me," he whispered near her ear. "Open for me, Sara. Come on, honey."

Sara complied, pulling her knees back and opening her legs so Grissom could settle between them. As she did so she realized she was no longer wearing panties. She didn't know when he had removed them, but was grateful for the true lack of barriers between their bodies.

Grissom worked his shorts down with Sara's assistance intermittently kissing and touching lightly until he too was fully exposed. "Are you ready for me, Sara?" he asked in a deep voice. "I don't want to hurt you, ever."

"You won't," she assured him. "I've never been more ready."

Grissom entered her slowly, slowing every few seconds for her to adjust to his size. She fit him perfectly, like a custom made glove, wrapping around him, tight and secure. He had never felt this way before; safe, sheltered…It was a new experience. It pleased Grissom that Sara seemed to be getting some pleasure from this endeavor as well as he. She strained her hips eagerly, stretching to accommodate him. It had been a while for both of them, and neither expected the level of intensity their coupling reached.

Grissom moved inside of Sara and she in turn matched his rhythm until he reached the edge and emptied his seed into her body. The warmth of Grissom's life force filling her was what Sara needed to be pushed over the edge to intense orgasm. She cried out as waves of pleasure washed over her body like the surf on the sand.

When it was over they lay still, neither able to speak or move. They could barely breathe. As their heart rates began to slow and the paralysis of pleasure met away, Sara closed her eyes and turned her head away when she felt him empty into her, completely filling her with his essence. He stopped, still inside of her, and turned her face to him.

"Don't look away from me, Sara," he said voice filled with emotion. "Not after this."

Sara opened her eyes to reveal to Grissom there tears that lingered there. His heart wrenched. Had he hurt her? Was he wrong to do this?

"Sara," he whispered. "What's wrong? Was I too rough?" he asked breathlessly.

"No, you were fine. Everything was wonderful," she sniffed wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Then why are you crying?" Grissom asked, still worried.

"Because of how beautiful this was with you. It was so different than anything I've ever felt before. I don't understand this feeling," she sighed.

"I don't either," Grissom replied. "I feel…I don't know how to say it and I don't know what it means, but you are right. It is beautiful."

"None of this makes sense to me," Sara murmured to him. "How can something we both know is wrong feel so right?"

"It's a matter of the heart, Sara. It isn't supposed to make sense. It's just supposed to make you feel…feel everything you need to feel and it did for me, he admitted. "On the roller coaster tonight, I felt lost, and I needed to be found. You found me, Sara, but not out there. In here."

Grissom pulled out and rolled over to her side, his body relaxed. Sara automatically curled up next to him, her head in the crook of his arm. They both knew that they needed to have a long conversation about what this night together was going to mean for their futures, but that could wait. For now, for this moment they would simply enjoy being together, feeling loved, and most of all finally feeling alive.


	7. Chapter 6

Grissom sat on the stool in front of his kitchen counter fingering the slip of paper Terri Miller had tacked on his cork board. He'd never been so rattled by a woman before and never had any woman pinpoint what he would like, what he could do, or what he wanted to hear or see like she had done. She had completely and flawlessly dissected his personality and pieced it together as easily as if it had been a broken human skeleton. It was true that Terri was a gifted scientist, and an anthropologist at that. It was her job to read people, to learn from their habits and behaviors, to study their mannerisms and deficits in order to piece together the puzzle of the society as a whole. Still, Terri had pinned him like a thumb tack to a butterfly's wing. Not even Sara had done that.

Sara was good at reading him. She knew him well, his body language, his soft spots, his triggers, but she didn't shake him, at least not he way Terri did. There was something nice about feeling so out of control, like he could change courses and not leave anyone behind him spinning on their ear. It would be nice to be able to relinquish that control for a while.

Grissom heard the door open and close signaling Sara's arrival. He put the phone number down next to his mug and called out a greeting. "Hey, Sara. You're late."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I know. PD took forever with the paperwork. I cannot imagine it being any worse if we actually had to charge the officer." She stowed her kit and closed the gap between them putting her arms around his neck, "I heard about what happened with you and Nick tonight. Are you okay?"

Grissom held her tightly and smiled against her hair at her concern, "I'm fine. We are both fine."

They both stepped back at the same moment, neither one sure what to do. They hadn't spent a lot of time alone outside of work since their relationship evolved. Grissom was not sure what it all meant, and neither was Sara. They both admitted nothing would ever be as it had been but neither knew what it may become.

"I'm glad," Sara smiled as her eyes fell on the paper lying on the counter. "What is this?" she asked.

"It is a phone number," he answered.

Sara picked up the slip, "Terri Miller? Isn't she that forensic artist you called in for the skeleton?"

"Yes, she is. She does very nice work," said Grissom moving around the counter to grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

"Apparently, but Gris, her number and other information is on file at the lab. Why would she need to give you a contact number?" Sara asked. She had been wondering about their encounter for two weeks and what it would mean for their relationship. Did it, as she hoped, turn their friendship into romance? Or was it, as she suspected, another form of psychological diversion? Now was her perfect chance to find out the answer.

"It's a private contact number, Sara," Grissom replied. "I believe she meant it for personal use."

Sara slowly nodded, feeling her heart crack in two. "I see." She cleared her throat surprised by the depth of emotional she was feeling at his response, "And do you…Do you plan on using it?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I may."

Another careful nod, "You should. You work hard. You deserve a social life outside of CSI."

Grissom could see Sara was playing it up for his sake, not wanting to commit either way to revealing how she felt or what she wanted from or with him. She did not even mention what had occurred between them. She left that up to him, more than likely, he guessed, knowing he was nearly incapable of accurately speaking his feelings about it. "Sara, about what happened between us," he began.

"It's okay, Gil," she assured him. "Really it is. We both need that connection that night, the feel of another person and we gave that to each other. It's fine."

Grissom wasn't sure how he felt about her position, but she was the reason he'd stayed distant all along, for her happiness. If a relationship was not hat she wanted, he would not force her. He was so much older and she deserved to make a life, make a family, whatever she wanted with someone who could and would be around for her entire life, not just the next 25 years or so. A commitment had to be her call, a relationship had to be her choice, and it did not seem to be what she wanted.

"It's was very special to me, Sara," he admitted. "I…"

Sara closed the physical space between them and took Grissom's hands in hers. "To me, too. But you have doubts about it and so do I. You can't start anything with doubts before finishing it at the same time."

"What doubts…" Grissom began, feeling completely unsteady given her proximity and the intensity of the discussion.

"Same as you," she answered. "It would affect our work, our other relationships, and for what…We don't need to dissect it. We both know the reasons we can never be more to each other than what we have all ready been."

She left him with that retreating to the safety of her bedroom where she could grieve the loss of her dream in peace. Grissom stared after her his mind spinning? Sara was making this easy on him and Grissom knew that. She knew him well enough to know the though of a serious and emotional connection terrified him almost as much as the thought of breaking her heart did. Still, the question remained did Sara really feel that way or did she only believer that he did. Grissom was too tired to try and answer that question. For now, he'd do as he always did when it came to Sara, leave well enough alone, go to his room, and sleep.


End file.
